


Beneath God's Eye

by CaptainCassidy



Series: Resident Evil: Caduceus [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Animal Abuse, Developing Relationship, Eugenics, F/M, Gen, God Complex, Nameless Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, References to Canon, Symbolism, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 17:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18760774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCassidy/pseuds/CaptainCassidy
Summary: Initially, there hadn't been much promise. With time, however, it seemed all predators learned to kill.





	Beneath God's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Paired with Retribution, Wesker's POV.

It was a shame, really, what had become of her. Born and raised in the labs, groomed to be an obedient little _pet_. Her sullen features accentuated her pale skin, the look of the dead written seeping from her pores. She walked with caution, like a deer in an unfamiliar field; elegant, but aware of the wolves unhindered by the broken wire fence.

Wesker bared his teeth at the thought. Such a show of weakness, to creep about and keep one’s head down. But it was the nature of the broken-- a beaten dog no longer tried to flee the strikes, no matter how easily it may be able to. The animal merely allowed the abuse to continue, convinced that it was right, that it was _normal_.

He never really cared for that word.

Unfortunately, she was valuable to his cause: another case of the virus melding _almost_ successfully to a human host. The infected either didn’t react to her, or actively saw her as akin to them; hunters sniffed at her with curiosity, lickers crept around her to try and understand the new but familiar being before them. Even the zombies and cerberus ignored her, or lingered nearby.

It was instinctual, something programmed into her variant of the virus. Into _Goddrad’s_ variant. He could feel it in his own body, trying to place her, curious, _lured_. He rejected it vehemently. It stirred Uroboros, made his pupils narrow to slits, and kept him on edge in her presence.

Steel wasn’t capable of fighting against him; by strength alone, she couldn’t be compared. The woman could bend metal, yes, but she couldn’t throw _missiles_. She even struggled when facing the T-002, as the documents had recorded. In the end, it had been intelligence that won her the fight. There was something to say about that. The woman didn’t panic easily.

It was her speed, stamina, and healing factor that had impressed him. Based on the recorded tests, she’d be able to keep up with him at a full sprint. Certainly not overtake him, of course-- but remain near. Steel wouldn’t grow tired, either. Not for a long time. That was truly a feat for any infected.

And then there was her ability to heal: beyond sufficient. Like him, small injuries were healed almost immediately. Larger ones took hours to days, and regeneration of body parts mere months. Organs, limbs-- whatever had been damaged would be back within a reasonable amount of time. Like him, she couldn’t die.

A part of him remembered the files he had stolen after his visit to the final Spencer estate. These read similarly, and somehow, that disturbed him. Wesker had no care for others, no reason to pity anyone; but the familiarity was certain.

In a way, perhaps he felt a kinship with the woman. Their origins were similar, after all: manufactured by a company, infected, and used as the humans saw fit. He wouldn’t deny that. She started like he had.

But Steel had not bitten the hand that fed her. Her head bowed to the men and women of the compound, and she seemed to view herself as _less_ than them. How deplorable. To have so much power, and still think oneself a tool? Did she have no pride? No ambition? The thought made him scowl. Useful as she may be, Wesker detested that sort of weakness.

When he’d asked Tanner about it, the man had only given a knowing grin.

 

Wesker soon realized his first assumptions may have been to swift. He posed no threat to her, that much had been made abundantly clear, and the woman grew more… comfortable. Finally he saw a spark of life in her.

Steel’s gaze was colder than the dead. She’d watch the men who worked nearby, the ones that would deliver him things, the ones that had certainly taken part in her abuse. He felt the familiar burn of hatred in her eyes, could all but see her muscles tense, like a snake preparing to strike. Something was preventing it.

He wondered what it’d take to make her lash out.

Steel grew bolder the longer he lingered in her presence. Eventually, she questioned him. It wasn’t something he’d expected.

_“Don’t you fear them?”_

Wesker had smirked, unable to keep the amusement off his features. She had been taken aback by this, and turned away from him. Had she realized just how powerful he knew he was? Or was it something else? It didn’t matter. She’d gotten the message.

 

The tyrant kept close watch of her. He had been right about her mannerisms, to an extent. Steel stepped so carefully that she rarely made sound. He’d been wrong to call her a deer, however; she didn’t flee when met with aggression. No, the woman stood her ground, took punishment without flinching, and never once took her eyes off those who distributed it.

Maybe a cat, he thought. She was about as quiet. The glint of hatred in her eyes made him think of the strays back in Raccoon City. They had claws and teeth and were certainly capable-- but why lash out when there was no perceived chance of escape? For some reason, Goddrad or Tanner had convinced her she would be fighting a losing battle.

It made him curious, to say the least.

 

“Why are you so frightened by them?” perhaps, deep down, he’d known. Her answer didn’t surprise him.

_“They are ruthless in their endeavors. They are insatiable in their lust. I am a doll of endless repair-- they are the roughest of children,”_ the woman had signed, watching him with a tiredness unique to her abuse. She’d been used up by them; any care she could have given, it had been replaced by sheer indifference. Somehow, the thought disturbed him.

Wesker didn’t respond. The tyrant turned away, gritting his teeth. Humans were so intent on creating something _better_ , and when they believed to have succeeded, they destroyed their own progress. He had watched it in Umbrella, the Organization, Tricell… such active abuse of their achievements, needless ‘tests’ done for the sake of entertainment; though here he had witnessed what must certainly be the most heinous act of entitlement.

He’d left, infuriated by mankind once more. Still, his rage didn’t subside. His eyes narrowed each time he passed by the offenders, his teeth ground with every office conversation that regarded what was done to _her_. Something was building within him-- perhaps it was inevitable, or perhaps he was pushed.

Either way, Wesker lashed out. Such insolence wouldn’t be tolerated beneath his rule; these people were useless, expendable drones that had failed to satisfy him.

Only when several lay dead before him did he stop to consider what to do next.

The action had shocked the rest of the staff, and he had intended for it. Their attitudes changed immediately: no longer did they loiter or jest, instead they made good use of their time, keeping their heads down and working like good little servants. No one tried to stand against him, or enact some kind of revenge or punishment. There was nothing they could do to a God.

 

    The bodies were dropped at her feet. She would surely praise him for his actions; Steel hated these men. Her allegiance should have been secured.

    _“Thank you.”_

    Nothing. Only a sign of thanks, and her gaze remained as even and cold as it had always been. Thank you? How _dare_ she. The woman should have dropped to her _knees_ to praise him.

    Wesker had stormed off, much to her confusion. Did she not realize what he wanted? He could offer so much _more_ than these pathetic _humans_. She shouldn’t fear them-- she should resent them as he did, should want their blood spilled at any opportunity. Why did she resist it? Why didn’t she show him that part he so badly wanted to bring out of her?

    She should have given him more. What more could she have given?

    He wanted to see her angry, to see her grit her teeth and fight back. Steel was more than powerful enough to do so. Though the woman was nothing compared to him, he had done his research. She wasn’t helpless, so why remain so passive?

    It infuriated him. So much potential, wasted by proxy to mankind.

   

    He needed to know.

    “Why do you let them do this to you? What’s stopping you from killing them?” she had seemed surprised by the question, as if it had come out of nowhere. “Is it weakness, or are you waiting for something?”

    Wesker watched her flinch, subtly shying away from him. So she was ashamed of her behavior-- she should be.

    _“They can unmake me,”_ the woman had signed, having returned her gaze to his. What a joke.

    “So can I.”

    She had nothing to say.

 

    Wesker had come upon the scene by accident. He’d merely meant to speak with Tanner, the director of the facility. Instead, he found the fat pig of a man with Steel pressed to the wall, his thick hand creeping up her blue sweater and his crotch pressed against hers. He’d wanted to gag, seeing such a blatant display of unwarranted perversion.

    In truth, he didn’t know why it had enraged him so much. The rush of fury that had been pumped through his veins so suddenly felt molten, and he simply couldn’t keep from reacting.

_Don’t touch her._

    The tyrant grabbed the collar of his lab coat, yanking him off the woman. His teeth gnashed and he snarled, all but throwing the smaller man against the opposite wall and pinning him there with his presence alone. Red eyes glinted visibly beneath his sunglasses, and Tanner cowered in terror.

    Without a word, Wesker left. Steel followed behind, likely wanting to get as much space between herself and her rapist as possible. She stayed at a distance, simply remaining in the same area until she felt she could approach him.

    This time, her thanks seemed more genuine. She mouthed the words-- at one time she could speak, how tragic-- and signed it to him, bowing her head and smiling.

Uroboros _jerked_ beneath his skin, and he nearly flinched back in response. Instead of allowing her to question it (and he knew she had seen, by the way her eyes flicked back up to his ever so briefly), Wesker reached out and took her by the jaw.

He squeezed, but not enough to hurt. Steel didn’t seem frightened by this. Instead, she met his gaze with a passive stare. What more lay behind those eyes? Envy, surely… but not fear. No, she wasn’t afraid of him. He supposed she shouldn’t be, at this point; he had improved her life greatly by his arrival alone, after all. Her torment had all but ceased.

Fear wasn’t what he wanted, Wesker decided. In the end, he’d released her and left. There was nothing to discuss, after all.

 

It had been present from the start. The shifting beneath his skin, the push to act outside of his usual temperament. He grew aggressive as the will of the virus continued to frustrate him, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Wesker snarled and snapped at the researchers, stopped caring for the specimens, felt as if Uroboros was going to tear from his skin at any moment. The other B.O.W.s gave him a wide breadth, even when they were caged. His aura grew suffocating.

He felt Steel’s gaze even when he couldn’t see her. She watched him constantly, no doubt amused by his growing aggression. The woman crept ever closer to him, though remaining respectful of his space. She never got _to_ close, and he was thankful for it.

 

The feeling of Uroboros raging within him finally outweighed his logical mind. Wesker sought out Steel, standing before her as he tried to decide his next course of action. There was no denying it: the virus saw her as a potential partner. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but genetically… she _was_ superior. And surely, he needed someone to carry his seed into the new age, didn’t he? Simply because he was the most worthy of it…

He hadn’t expected her to be forward. She always seemed so careful, so skittish, and it surprised him when her lips grazed his jaw. Wesker straightened up, gritting his teeth in an attempt to hide the sharp intake of breath he’d taken. Uroboros pulsed under his skin, primal in its eagerness. Perhaps the virus was incomplete after all.

 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He didn’t see her as an equal, and never would. But she was attentive, intelligent, _knowing_. Steel so quickly seemed to understand his behavior-- it reminded him of when he’d first met Will. The scrawny brat had immediately known how to treat him, and he’d appreciated it.

He thought back to Excella. She’d been clingy and handsy and annoying, failing to grasp the concept of _leaving someone alone_. Steel didn’t have this problem; she was content to back down and stay silent.

Not that she could make much noise, he supposed.

Eventually he grew… comfortable. In the same way he had tolerated Will, he quickly grew to tolerate Steel. And as this became the norm, he bore witness to her true nature; the woman would snap and threaten the scientists when they overstepped her boundaries, as if suddenly she was given some sort of control. It was interesting, to say the least. He’d at first thought her a frightful passive, but it seemed circumstance had greatly altered her character.

When she struck one of the men who had tried to touch her, he’d grinned. Steel bared her teeth, tore back from the human, and raised her hand as if she were going to tear him open. But she refrained-- she was sending a message. Suddenly, the frightened deer her had met when he’d first come here had grown fangs.

He wanted to see that hatred, he realized. Wesker wanted to see her come into her own, watch as she realized what sort of power she held above these worthless men and women. It was like watching a lion cub learn to hunt. The feeling gave him a sense of satisfaction; he had done this, and without him, Steel would be _nothing._ What a wonderful thought-- that he had nursed a frightened, sickly animal into an aggressive beast.

Now she was _his_.

  



End file.
